


Forget-Me-Nots In Your Hair

by Theanimepancake75



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Abandonment, Abandonment Issues, Book doesnt actively influence plot, Child neglect/abuse, Curses, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, adding tags as the story progresses, and by a bit I mean a lot, but only in the beginning!!!, characters not the people, hes just kind of there, its only just because these are the beginning chapters, minecraft lore but i messed with it a bit, more characters will show up I promise, only platonic relationships, takes place in the dreamsmp but it isnt really a big deal, these characters are all bros, this is LITERALLY just me writing a multi-chapter fic about my dreamsmp oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theanimepancake75/pseuds/Theanimepancake75
Summary: A multichapter fic i wrote about my dreamsmp oc, Book! Enjoy :DBook has been alone for most of his life. Almost as far back as he can remember, he's been on his lonesome. After all, its pretty hard to care for someone you forget about the moment he's out of your sight.Join Book, a cursed boy doomed to be forgotten by anyone who dares come close to him, as he navigates his way through life and deals with the effect of a curse that bars anyone from getting too close.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

Mr and Mrs Willow were completely normal folks. Normal marriage, normal home, normal neighborhood, normal wife and normal husband. Normal people, normal lives.  
At least, they were until Mrs. Willow got sick. Book was 4 at the time, and already quite used to wandering out alone. His mother was ill with something undiagnosable and his father was busy trying to find a way to cure it. So one can imagine the joy he felt when his father found a cure. A glass vial filled with something...pinkish. His father said he stole it from a nearby witches hut. Book didn't know if this was a fable or not, but he was happy that his mother was well again.  
Except it didn't stop there. His parents had to keep taking from the hut. They had to. His mother wasn't getting better, and the only thing to stave off the illness was the pinkish liquid.  
It all came to a head in autumn. The wind was blowing harsher than it ever had. Book was 5 then. He remembers the cold, and how the door swung open around noon. The witch they had been stealing from found out who had been taking her healing potions, and she wanted revenge. So she stood in their front room and grinned at them.  
"Since you have taken from me, I shall take from you." The witch crooned.  
"Please, take anything you want. Just leave my wife and I alone." His father pleaded. The witch raised an eyebrow at this, turning her gaze to Book, who was staring up at her with a curious gaze.  
"The child?" She questioned, gaze flickering to the couple.  
"Yes, yes you may take him. Please just leave us alone-"  
The witch snarled, raising her staff. "Since you seem so eager to give up this child, I will do you one better. You may keep him in your home, but in your memories...well, let's just say you won't have to worry about remembering his birthday. Or him, for that matter."  
An odd warmth came over Book. Like when he would lay out in the grass on sunny days. But this felt...strange. Like there was something malicious behind it. The witch stormed off, and left the Willows' normal life in shambles.  
From then on, Book would blip in and out of his parents' minds. One moment, they were completely present. The next, it was like he didn't exist.  
And soon enough, they forgot him entirely.


	2. Home Before Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Book had always thought of mushroom hunting like a game of hide and seek. He’d close his eyes, count down, and run into the woods in search of mushrooms.
> 
> The woods were dangerous to travel alone. It was easy to get lost, and once you were lost, it was nearly impossible to find your way back.

Book is forgotten for good when he’s six. He’s out with his mother, looking for mushrooms. He told himself not to wander far. Too far away, and she’d forget. He told himself that he’d be careful. Always within mother’s line of sight. Always there, always reminding her that he was still there. But he stops for a moment, examining a fallen log, looking for any hidden mushrooms that may be lurking underneath. He’s always thought of mushroom hunting like a game of hide and seek. He’d close his eyes, count down, and run into the woods in search of mushrooms. It was fun, then. Now...well, it wasn’t as fun. He couldn’t pretend to play hide and seek. By the time he would have counted down, his mother would have gone on into the woods without him. The woods were dangerous to travel alone. It was easy to get lost, and once you were lost it was nearly impossible to find your way back. Before he had been cursed, Book roamed the woods freely, counting on the fact that someone would come out and find him sooner or later. Now, he doesn’t have that to fall back on. Now, if Book got lost in the woods, he would be lost for good. No one would remember to come back or go looking for him. He would be all alone in the woods.

So Book tells himself, as he tries to roll over the small log, that he won’t take long. Only a second. Just checking for mushrooms briefly and then running back to mother. But something moves under the log. Something green and slimy looking. Book’s eyes widen as he stares down at the little creature. A frog, no bigger than his hand, with green skin and little flecks of black and big eyes that look up at him. He is instantly enamoured with this frog, fascinated by it. He watches as it hops away and, for a brief moment, contemplates running after it.

But then he remembers. He can’t stray too far. He can’t be out of sight for too long. So, with a sigh, he allows the log to roll back over, and he stands back up. He dusts off his legs and looks around.

Realization hits Book like a punch to the gut. His mother is nowhere to be found. He’s out of her line of sight. Out of sight, out of mind. And he has no clue where he is. His mother has wandered off and he is alone and she’s forgotten him and he is lost. So, so lost.

He catches the tears before they can even think about falling from his eyes. Now isn’t the time to be crying. He has two options here. He can either stay put until he’s found (Not likely. Not smart. His mother isn’t coming back, and he knows it.) or he can go off in search of her (dangerous, but could turn out better than staying put. potentially.) After a brief moment of going back and forth between his two options, he decides that he isn’t going to stay put. Sure, it’s what most children should do if they get lost in the woods, but he isn’t most children. So he takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head. Where could his mother have gone to? It’s not late enough to head home just yet, so she could be anywhere in the woods. He looks around, trying to find any sort of indicator as to the whereabouts of his mother, or at least, the general direction she was walking in.

The footsteps aren’t obvious at first, but Book still feels relieved when he sees them. These have to be his mother’s footprints. They just have to be! So he picks up a stick (just in case he needs it) and trudges onwards through the mud in search of his mother.

It's sundown, and Book is still lost. His mother is still nowhere to be found. Book has no clue where she is or where in the woods he himself is. But he keeps walking. He has to keep walking. If he stops, anything could happen. A zombie could come out of nowhere. A spider. A skeleton. A- A-

He abandons that train of thought. Fear will get him no closer to home. He has to keep moving. So, he does. He heads towards the setting sun, westward. He figures that, if he keeps walking long enough, he’ll either run into someone or a whole village of someones. Either case could prove helpful. So he walks on, keeping his eyes ahead of him and his ears perked up in case anything dares to make a sound.

The moon is high in the sky when Book notices a light in the distance. When the flame reaches his field of vision, light rising in the distance, hope rises in his chest alongside it. Suddenly, he feels so, so tired. He runs over to the source of the flame as fast as his legs will carry him, a smile of wild abandon on his face as he does his best to avoid rocks and roots that might trip him up.

Unfortunately, he should have been more watchful of his step. Because while he did avoid countless stones and roots, he neglected to notice the fact that he was running down a hill. The more speed he gained, the less control he had, so by the time he had gotten ¾ of the way down the hill, he went tumbling.

Right. Into. Someone’s. Back. Book quickly looked up at the stranger, being met with a gentle gust of wind to the face. The person before him stared down at him curiously, a great big pair of wings tucked safely behind his back.

“I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to bump into you! I saw your fire and so I ran down the hill but I went too fast so I fell and I’m really sorry for bumping into you!” Book quickly apologizes, scrambling to try and make sure the winged stranger isn’t upset. And, to the child’s surprise, he isn’t. In fact, he chuckles, smiling warmly as he kneels down to offer Book a helping hand to stand.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. You’ve done me no harm. Don’t worry about it, little one.” The stranger soothes, voice successfully calming Book down as he takes the strangers offered hand, using it to stand up.

“My name is Book, sir.” he takes a pause. “Your wings are really pretty. I’ve never seen anything like them. Well, outside of stories, I haven’t.”

“Stories, you say?”

“Yes! My father used to read me all sorts of stories. I really like the ones about the um. The um. The wing people?” Book scrambles to try and figure out the word he’s looking for. His father had told him a million stories about these people, and yet he still forgot the word.

“You mean the avians?” the stranger chuckles.

“Yes! Yes, them! Your wings are much prettier than my father said they would be.”

“Thank you, Book. If I may ask, where is your father now? It’s awfully late to be out in the woods alone.”

“He’s at home…”

“You’re lost?” Book chooses not to answer, nodding his head to affirm the stranger’s question. A sad look crosses across his eyes for a brief moment, before he masks it with a warm, encouraging smile.

"Would you like help finding your way back? I know this forest fairly well. I'm sure I could help you find your way home in no time."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to be a bother. And I can probably find my way back on my own." Book glances back at the woods, doubtful of what he just said.

"Of course I'm sure. Your parents must be worried sick about you. I'll see to it you're home within a day or two." Book nods and tries to smile at the comment.

Suddenly, he realizes that he can't go home. They won't remember him. His parents...his parents won't remember him. He's alone now. Completely alone. His breath hitches and he feels his eyes water. The winged man is quick to kneel to his height and places a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey now. It's alright, mate. Don't worry, we'll get you home in no time. It'll all be okay." Book nods, sniffling and wiping his eyes, and the winged man pats his shoulder before standing back up. "There you go. No need to worry. It'll all be alright. We'll set out in the morning. Traveling at night would be dangerous, and I don't think your parents would appreciate it if I returned you to them in pieces." Book laughs a little.

"No, I can't imagine that they would, sir. They'd probably be pretty upset." And now it's the winged man's turn to chuckle.

"My name is Philza, by the way. You don't have to keep calling me 'sir'."

"Oh! Alright, si- Philza." Book corrects himself instantaneously. Philza smiles warmly. "Thank you for helping me find my way back home."

"It's no problem, Book. Like I said, I know these woods. You'll be home in no time." Book, despite knowing that no, he won't be home in no time (You can't go somewhere that doesn't exist anymore. You certainly can't get there in no time. Well, technically you could. If you can't get there, you can't take time to get there. But that's something to write another time.), nods and smiles tiredly, reaching out for a hug. Philza accepts, taking the half-elf into his arms.

Book stares at his wings, admiring the way the feathers shine in the moonlight. Philza smiles fondly and unfolds the wings, wrapping them around Book. The child snuggles into his embrace, appreciating the added warmth of the wings.

Philza sits down by the fire, keeping watch for a little while. Book falls asleep within the minute, safe and warm and unplagued by the fear of being forgotten that he was so used to.

Before he also falls asleep, Philza sends a quick message to his family.

“Will be home late. Found a kid far from home, trying to help him find his way back.”

“Ok. But you can’t keep him. Two siblings is plenty enough for me.”

Philza laughs a little and sets his communicator down. And soon, he too falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man!! I'm so sorry that this took me so long to update! A bunch of stuff came up and it just completely slipped my mind. Hopefully, ill at least be able to update every other day.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Have a nice day and stay plenty hydrated!! :D


	3. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the forest all over again. Except this time, the trees are people and the mushrooms are a family that no longer exist. His mother is gone again. Again and again and again he is left. Again and again and again he is forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind.

They set out walking in the morning. Book tries his best to lead the way and remember where his home is, but there are still a few holes in his memory.

As they walk, they talk about anything that comes to mind. Book points out random leafs or rocks and excitedly asks Philza what they are. He responds, if he knows, but makes up names if he doesn’t. Of course, Book believes him still. There’s a village in sight when Book asks a question that isn’t about rocks or plants.

  
“Do you have a family, Philza?” He asks, staring out at the village before him. It’s not the one he’s from, but it does look slightly familiar. Philza takes a moment before responding.

  
“I do, yes.” He responds, sounding like he’s lost in thought.

  
“Where are they?”

  
“At home.”

  
“Are you lost?”

  
“No, I just left them at home for a while. Sometimes I have to leave, and I don’t take them with me.”

  
“Why?” Book asks, confused. If they’re his family, why does he leave them behind at home? Book thinks he would hate that, if his parents just left him. What happened to him wasn’t the same, he thinks. It was his own fault for getting lost. But Philza was going away on...purpose? It just doesn’t make any sense to him. And it continues to not make any sense, because Philza doesn’t answer him.

“We’ve reached the village!” The winged man smiles, but Book doesn’t follow suit. He’s still confused. “Is this the one you’re from?” Book takes a moment before responding. Does he lie? He doesn’t want to keep Philza from his family. But this isn’t his village. And Mother always said lying was bad. But this was lying to help! If Book lied, Philza could go home and be with his family. So, Book decides to lie.

“Yes! My home is just over there!” He cheers, pointing off in some random direction. Fortunately, he ends up pointing to a house. He cheers silently at his little victory. Philza accepts the lie, not realising that it’s not the truth.

“That’s great, mate! Let’s get you right on home, then. I’m sure your parents will be happy to see you again.” Book feels his insides twist up in knots.

“They’re not home yet! They’re out working! But I can handle myself if you just drop me off!” he scrambles to come up with a reason why his parents won’t be home to welcome him.

“Nonsense, we can go find them! Plus, it’d be dangerous for you to be home all alone. Anything could happen, and no one would be around to help you.” Book stops himself from protesting with the fact that he navigated the forest all alone, and therefore is perfectly capable of looking after himself. By the time he drags himself out of his thoughts, Philza is already walking towards the town square. Book scrambles to catch up. He can’t become out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind. He doesn’t want to be forgotten again just yet. So he follows close behind Philza, following him into the town square as the winged man goes from person to person, asking for the whereabouts of Book’s parents.

Book’s glasses slip off of his face and onto the ground as Philza is talking to the local librarian. He waits a while before kneeling down to scoop up the glasses, trying to avoid getting stepped on or kicked over by accident.

He sees his glasses and immediately reaches for them, grabbing them and dusting them off before putting them back on his face. His ears shift and he has to blink a bit in order to adjust. But, by the time he stands back up, Philza is out of sight. And Book starts spiraling.

It's the forest all over again. Except this time, the trees are people and the mushrooms are a family that no longer exist. His mother is gone again. Again and again and again he is left. Again and again and again he is forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind.

Book starts tearing through the crowd, trying to make his way back to Philza. Maybe it isn't too late! Maybe he hasn't been forgotten yet! Maybe there's still a chance! Maybe-

His hopes are dashed as he watches Philza, looking very confused, leaving the village.  
Out of sight, out of mind.

Book's heart drops into his stomach and he falls to his knees, hands coming up to hold his face as he sobs.

Out of sight, out of mind.

The people walking past don't pay him any mind. They just keep walking. They ignore him, feeling too awkward to say anything to the child sobbing in the street.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Out of sight, out of mind.

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!! Sorry its so late again. Writers block is never kind...anyways, I hope you liked it! Who do you think talks to Book at the end?
> 
> Stay safe and stay hydrated!! <3


	4. I'll Make You Count to One Hundred so I Have a Good Chance to Hide (Don't Expect Me to Play Fair)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Book looks up to a strange sight. A boy is standing next to him, looking concerned. The boy looks around his age, but there's something strange about him.  
> Fluffy red ears protrude from the top of his head, and an equally red and fluffy tail swish swishes behind him curiously.  
> "Are you alright?" The boy asks again.

Book looks up to a strange sight. A boy is standing next to him, looking concerned. The boy looks around his age, but there's something strange about him.

  
Fluffy red ears protrude from the top of his head, and an equally red and fluffy tail swish swishes behind him curiously.

  
"Are you alright?" The boy asks again. Book sniffles, dries his eyes, and stands, nodding.

  
"Yeah, I’m. I'm alright." He manages. The boy gives him a sad look before extending his hand, offering a shake.

  
"My name is Fundy. What's yours?"

  
"I'm Book. It's nice to meet you, Fundy."

  
"What kind of a name is Book?" Said half-elf giggles.

"What kind of a name is Fundy?"  
  
"It's a perfectly good name!"  
  
"Mhm. So is Book! Book is a good name. I like being called Book."  
  
"Whatever…" Fundy sighs, and Book lets out another laugh. "Hey, you wanna play tag? I'll be it, so I'll have to chase you around. My dad says I don't have to be home till sundown, so we have plenty of time to play."  
  
Book weighs his options. He could play tag with this friendly fox boy, or he could...not? It's not a very tough decision. He nods excitedly and then immediately takes off running, much to the chagrin of Fundy.  
  
"Hey! That's not fair! You got a head start!" The boy calls. Book laughs and keeps running, expertly dodging every attempt fundy makes at tagging him.  
  
The two spend hours playing in the village, rotating from game to game. Needless to say, Book turns down the opportunity to play hide and seek.  
  
They're pulled out of a game of charades when someone comes up behind Fundy and picks him up. The boy yelps a little, and before he can think about it Book is running up at the man. He's about to start hitting him when he hears Fundy speak up.  
  
"Dad!! Put me down!!" The fox hybrid giggles, and Book drops his fists. That's Fundy’s father, not some stranger trying to hurt him. The boy takes a step back, staring down at the floor in shame. He can't believe he almost beat up his new (best?) friend's dad.  
  
Fundy's dad sets him down and smiles at Book when the fox hybrid runs over to him, nudging him gently.  
  
"Dad, this is Book! Book, this is my dad!" Fundy chirps. Book looks up at the man, trying to muster a friendly smile. It works, somewhat.  
  
"Hello, sir. It's nice to meet you."  
  
"It's nice to meet you too, Book. My name is Wilbur. Now, I hate to interrupt your fun, but Fundy and I have to go home. Maybe you two can play more tomorrow!" He sounds cheerful, but this does nothing to improve Book’s feelings when it comes to Fundy leaving. Said boy quickly grabs Book’s arm, refusing to let go.  
  
"But daaad! I just met Book today! Can we please play a little bit longer? It's not even that dark out yet!" Fundy pouts, and Book is somewhat hopeful. Maybe Wilbur will let them play for a bit longer! Maybe Fundy won't have to go just yet! Maybe he’ll actually be able to say a real goodbye.  
  
"Sorry, Little Champion. Your mother’s rules, not mine. Though, I'm sure Book's parents want him home soon, too. It's sunset, after all. And all the monsters will be coming out at dark."  
  
"Can he stay the night? Please please please??"  
  
"I'm afraid not, kiddo. We've got to get up early tomorrow so that we can set up for the farmers market tomorrow. Sorry." Fundy grumbles, but begrudgingly releases Book's arm.  
  
"Fiiine. Goodbye, Book. Hopefully we can play again tomorrow. Even if you do cheat at tag." He turns and gives Book a hug, and the half-elf is too caught up in the fact that woah. This is a hug. This is...nice. to comment on the fact that Fundy accused him of cheating at tag.  
  
Eventually, Book manages to say goodbye, and the hug falls. Fundy and Wilbur leave. Book tries to convince himself to have hope. They'll remember him! He shouldn't worry! But, like always, it doesn't work. He wanders the streets of the village, feeling more desolate and alone than before.  
  
Book walks around throughout the night, fighting off the urge to sleep and getting caught up in his own thoughts. Where does he go from here? He's thoroughly abandoned and alone. He has no parents. No home. No place to go at the end of the day. No one to hug him or braid his hair or help him back to sleep after a nightmare. He has no one. And part of him blames himself for that.  
  
Just as he's about to finish that thought, a noise pulls him out of his head. A low grumble, like the sound someone makes when they're injured. He turns around and comes face to face with a reanimated rotting corpse. A zombie. The smell is horrid and makes Book gag just a little as he frantically runs away. He realizes with horror that he dropped his stick. He has no means of defending himself. He keeps running.  
  
Eventually, he lands in a cave. Not by choice, mind you.

No, he falls.  
  
It's not a very long way to drop, but it's still enough to hurt. Nothing feels broken, but he did scrape his knees up pretty badly. This, coupled with all of the events of the day, is enough to lead him to his breaking point yet again. Hot tears well up in his eyes, and he feels his breath start to hitch as the sobs return. But this time, no one is there to comfort him. He is all alone, at the bottom of this cave.  
  
Or at least, that's what he thought.

A low grumble slices through the silence, and Book jumps up with a start, shaking with fear.  
  
"Hello? Who's- who's there?" He calls, voice quivering. At first, there’s no response. Just cave ambience. For a moment, Book thinks he just imagined the noise. Just his mind playing tricks. Just filling in noise when there was none.  
  
And then he hears it again. A low grumble, but not the one the zombies make. This one sounded...gentler. Like a question. Like...like the person making it was also   
scared. Again, Book calls out.  
  
“Hello? Who’s there! Come out! I’m not afraid of you, whatever you are!” He shouts.  
  
From the darkness, the sound of giant footsteps echoes through the cave. Book finds himself growing more and more afraid with each one. Until eventually, the noise-maker reveals itself. An iron golem, more than thrice Book’s size, emerges from the darkness. The half-elf screams and flings himself against the back wall, staring up at the not-quite-machine with pure terror in his eyes.  
  
“I-I’m really sorry about what I just said! You seem like an awfully nice golem and I’m really sorry for coming into your cave and I most definitely will be leaving soon! See, I was chased by a zombie and I didn’t have my stick so I had to keep running but I wasn’t looking where I was going so I fell in your cave and I’m really sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” Book scrambles with each word, saying them as fast as he can and causing them to run together by doing so. The golem looks down at him, and in the moonlight, Book can fully analyze the creature. It’s partially broken. Cracks cover its body like spiderwebs. An older golem, and by how dusty it is, it’s been down here for a while. The creature makes the rumbling noise again, but it is quickly followed by words. It’s voice is low, like a gentle baritone hum.  
  
“Golem...not...hurt.” The golem says, and Book feels instantly relieved.  
  
“Right! Right. Thank you! I’ll just be on my way. Um,” Looking up and around himself, Book realizes that there’s no real way out. He’d have to venture into the cave or figure out some way to climb out. “Somehow..”  
  
The golem makes a noise that sounds almost like a chuckle. “Trapped. Walls...big. You...Tiny.” It squishes two of its fingers together, leaving about an inch of space between to demonstrate just how short Book is.  
  
“Not that tiny!! Just. Just too tiny to climb these walls.” Book huffs, crossing his arms.  
  
“Golem help tiny?”  
  
“No, I can get out on my own. Thank you though!” He quickly says, still somewhat afraid of the golem. The creature makes the chuckling noise again before taking another step closer. Book wishes he could take another step back. The golem said it wouldn’t hurt him, but it’s still a rather big creature and could still throw him a decent distance if it wanted to.  
  
“Golem help tiny.” Is the only warning Book gets before he’s lifted into the air. For something so big and brutish, the golem is surprisingly...gentle. He yelps and squirms a bit, but eventually Book is very gently placed on the ground above the cave. The golem looks up at him with what almost looks like a smile. Book smiles back, surprisingly.  
  
“Thank you for helping me.”  
  
“Welcome. Go home. Dark. Danger. Family...worry.” Book sighs, sitting on the grass.  
  
“I can’t go home, Golem.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I just can’t.”  
  
“Tiny...not have...home?”  
  
“...Yeah.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“It’s alright. Can I stay here for a bit? Just until morning. Then I’ll be gone and you won’t have to even remember I was here.” Book asks. It would be safer here than out in the woods, even if it’s a cave. The golem reaches out again, and Book takes a step forward, meeting the creature’s hand. He’s picked back up, but this time he’s placed on the golem’s shoulder, rather than the ground.  
  
“Tiny...stay. Golem...care...tiny. Protect. Keep...safe.” The golem rumbles.  
  
“Thank you, golem.” Book yawns, leaning against the side of the creature’s head.  
  
“Welcome.” The golem picks Book up again and sets him on the cave floor, sitting beside him and patting his head ever-so-gently. Eventually, the boy falls asleep.   
  
The golem, not needing rest like Book does, keeps watch for the night, willing to fend off any mobs that would dare come close to hurting Tiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! Chapter 3 is up!! I hope you guys liked it! Until next time, stay safe and stay hydrated! <3


	5. Chase The Wind (And Touch The Sky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun is warm on his face, his back, his arms, his legs. Comfortably warm. Like a hug or coming in and sitting by the fire when it’s cold out.

The next few years pass by in a comfortable blur. Book grows up. The Golem stands guard. A stray cat wiggles its way into their home and hearts, Book names it Acorn. A home is built not too far from the cave, a cozy little wooden cottage shrouded from view by countless spruce trees. Life is good.  
Book doesn’t leave the house often. Why would he need to? He has a garden and has become self-sufficient. At age 14, he begins to teach himself how to sword fight. He and the golem pretend to duel in the garden. Book hardly wins, of course, but he’s still getting better. Still improving. The golem is proud.

The nightmares finally stopped around then, too. He no longer wakes up in a cold sweat, terrified of being forgotten. He no longer stumbles over to the golem at ungodly hours of the night, in tears and babbling on and on about every anxiety he has. He no longer thinks about the day he was left. His family is gone, now. And this, this life with two new friends who will never forget him, is all he has. If he’s being honest, he’s grateful for the curse.

  
Book feels guilt tug at his mind whenever he thinks about that. He shouldn’t feel grateful. He shouldn’t feel relieved. His family lost him, he was alone. He was orphaned, more or less. So why does he feel so...okay about it? He doesn’t understand. He keeps these thoughts to himself, though, and focuses on other things. He reads whenever possible, writing, gardening, making tapestries out of a loom he’d assembled. He’d gotten quite good with it. Often, his fingers became stained with dye from coloring wool to spin into yarn. He doesn’t mind at all, though. It’s just another part of the idyllic little life he’s set up for himself.

  
On sunny afternoons, Book likes to walk. The sunflowers in front of his home smile at the sky, and Book copies them. Turning towards the sky, his mouth curves into a gentle smile. His eyes crinkle and squint at the light, but he doesn’t mind at all. The sun is warm on his face, his back, his arms, his legs. Comfortably warm. Like a hug or coming in and sitting by the fire when it’s cold out.

Sometimes, the golem and Acorn accompany him on these walks. Sometimes they don’t. It’s nice to have someone to talk to when they join him, but sometimes he likes the solitude of walking alone.

The sunlight dances through the leaves of the trees above him, and Book feels at home. He can hear the way the wind plays in the trees, delights in the breeze running its cool fingers through his hair, he never braids it when he goes out walking, preferring to leave it down. The flowers entangled within it relish in the outside world, taking it in bit by bit and flourishing in the same manner that Book is.

His eyes catch something in the distance. A deer stands a good eight feet away, hidden by bushes and trees. Book makes eye contact with the animal, and sees a mischievous glint in it’s eyes. It wants to play a game.

Lucky for it, so does Book.

The deer begins running, beckoning for Book to follow, and he does. They chase each other through the forest, their game of tag extending all across the vast expanse of trees. Eventually, they both become exhausted. The deer lowers its head before trotting off into the wilderness, Book nodding at it in a silent goodbye.

After the deer leaves, Book eyes the tree nearest to him. A tired smile appears on his face, and he begins to climb. Eventually, he reaches the top of the tree. The branch beneath him is sturdy, and he sits, back to the trunk of the tree as he gazes out on the horizon. The sun is setting, the sky becoming like a watercolor painting of different hues. It’s beautiful.

The sun is nearly gone, and Book decides he should be heading home. He climbs down from the tree, stretches his arms above his head, and begins the jog home.

When he reaches the house, he can’t help but release a sigh of relief. He’s home, safe. Entering the house, he’s immediately greeted by Acorn twisting around his legs. The cat purrs happily up at him, and he returns the gesture. His purr rumbles through his chest, a song of comfort and the feeling of loving and being loved. He picks up the cat, holding her as he walks to the kitchen. The mushroom soup he had set out to slowly cook is doing just so, and it’s pleasantly warm when he makes himself a bowl. Not the same warmth as the sun, but warm nonetheless. The soup is warm like resting after a long day, warm like coming home. He eats in relative silence, the only noise filling the house being Acorn’s happy purrs.

The golem enters the room shortly afterwards, lumbering over to sit next to Book. The creature stands outside until the day’s end, keeping watch over the little home.

Book leans against the golem’s side, breathing deep and slow as his eyes droop with drowsiness. He yawns, deciding to just close his eyes for a moment. He won’t sleep here, on the floor. He’s merely resting. Acorn curls up in his lap, and Book feels at home once again. Like this is where he’s meant to be. He smiles quietly to himself, feeling at peace in the company of his friends.

Book is startled from his sleep by a knock at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot woot! New chapter! Thank you to those leaving kudos and bookmarking!! I hope you're having a great day!!! <3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! Sorry its so short!! The next one should be up soon, and it's a lot longer...I think? Anyways! Have a lovely day, and remember to stay hydrated!!!


	6. Stay Where You Are (Safe In A Frame)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You feel your cries become laughs, and soon you're hugging him and laughing and he doesn't exactly understand but he's laughing too and it reminds you of just how wonderful, just how spectacular, people can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV SWITCH BABYYYYYYYYY
> 
> Its metaphorical and shit :)
> 
> But yeah!!! Tws for some of the stuff in the tags plus injury mentions and getting sick. Like really sick. Stay safe, yall. 
> 
> Anyways!! Enjoy the chapter!!

When you open the door, you find a boy around your age. His hair is blonde, his eyes are blue, and he looks like he's about to pass out. Quickly, you rush him inside. You lay him on the couch, bring him some dandelion tea, patch his wounds, and try not to think about the fact that this is your first visitor and the house is a mess and oh gods you just dragged this boy into your home without even asking him why he was here. 

He opens his eyes a few hours later, and relief washes over you. Thank the gods, he’s alright. Well, alright as he can be. He’s still gravely injured. Nevertheless, he still grins up at you. You can’t help but smile back. He introduces himself.

“Tommy.” 

“Book.” is all you reply with. 

“What kind of a name is Book?” He asks. He means no harm, of course, but you can’t help but remember the fox boy who asked the same question. 

“A good one. Way better than Tommy.” He smiles into his words, sitting down on the table in front of the boy, who scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How are your injuries? I did what I could, but I’m not a doctor, and I was out of health potions, and really it was rather a surprise that you dropped in so I’m sorry that the house isn’t clean and you’re also my first visitor so that’s really nerve wracking and I’m not entirely sure what I should be doing or saying so I’m also sorry about that and-” He cuts you off with a laugh. You give him a curious look. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, nothing!” You give him a little bit of a glare, but he just laughs more. “Fuck. I gotta stop laughing. It hurts like a bitch.” 

“...what’s a bitch?” Tommy stares at you for a moment, briefly awestruck before bursting out in another round of laughter. This time, you join him, chuckling along though you still haven’t quite figured out what’s so funny. 

It takes him a few days to properly heal. You don’t know how he got here in the state that he is, but you still feel obligated to help heal him. Over this time, you two become close. He tells you about his life before now. He has two brothers, both older than him. You laugh and tell him that you’re jealous, he tells you not to be.

“They were both pains in my neck. Annoying as shit.” He’s taught you a lot of curse words. You don’t use them very often, but it’s nice to understand. “I kinda miss them now, though. I was on my way to visit one of them when I got ambushed by mobs. I saw your house in the distance and. Uh. Wanted to make sure they weren’t bothering you too.” You smirk. He left out the part where he showed up bloody and bruised on your doorstep. 

“Right, yes. Because the great Tommyinnit never needs help. And he definitely showed up on my doorstep to make sure  _ I  _ was okay. Definitely.” You laugh with your words. He rolls his eyes and smiles, shoving your arm lightly. 

“At least I’m not stupidly short like you are.” 

“Beats being stupidly tall like you.” You both dissolve into laughter at that, Acorn becoming upset by all the movement and noise from where she was seated on your lap. And yet, she doesn’t leave. 

“What’s the deal with the big man?” Tommy asks one day, gesturing to the golem. The creature is standing out by the garden where you’re both working, skillfully keeping watch. 

“Oh, that’s Golem. He found me when I was little, helped raise me and build this house and stuff.” You shrug, focused on the carrots you’re planting. 

“So he’s like your dad? If you had a golem for a dad that’d be poggers. You’d be like, half golem and have cool powers n’ shit.” 

“I mean, I guess? I’m not related to him or anything, though. I’m half-elf, not half golem. So he’s more like my childhood best friend.” You smile at Golem, and can sense that he smiles back. You go back to gardening, and fortunately enough, that’s the last time Tommy asks about your family. 

He gets a fever towards the end of his time healing. It’s a bad one. He thrashes in his sleep, fitful and even closer to death than when you found him. It takes days for him to recover. You spend countless nights sitting by his side, a wet cloth placed on his forehead and countless incantations that you remember your father chanting all those years ago falling from your lips as you try desperately, desperately, to heal him. Eventually, you have nothing left. You collapse atop your wooden chair, head in your hands as you bite back cries bound to make you shake like a leaf in a storm. This is your fault. You should have done better. You're losing someone else, and this time there isn't a curse to blame. 

Suddenly, you feel a warm hand take your wrist, and suddenly your head is on a shoulder and suddenly you're being shushed and suddenly there are arms around you. He's alright. He just recovered from a deadly fever due to Gods know what and he's worried about  _ you _ . Gods...how stupid is that? You feel your cries become laughs, and soon you're hugging him and laughing and he doesn't exactly understand but he's laughing too and it reminds you of just how wonderful, just how spectacular, people can be. You both head to the front room and curl up by the fire, Acorn nestled beside you both as you talk of nothings and slowly, ever so slowly, drift to sleep.

When you wake up the next day, he’s staring out the window. He’s healed up nicely. You quietly take mental pride in your work as he turns to you, formerly brash, boisterous, and loud demeanor entirely gone. He looks serious. And it doesn’t suit him well. 

“I have to leave today. My brother is expecting me.” He states, plain and simple. You nod in understanding. 

“Do you have the time to stay for breakfast?” You ask, hoping the answer is yes. Despite his (slight) annoyingness in the beginning, you can’t help but find yourself having grown attached to him. He takes a moment to think, ocean eyes shrouding with conflict as he thinks about it. 

“Pancakes?” His eyebrows tilt in the same manner that they always do when he jokes. You feel a twang of hurt somewhere in your chest.

“Pancakes.” You respond, curt and to the point, with a hint of a smile in your voice. Perhaps it’s forced. Perhaps it isn’t. He doesn’t tell the difference, smiling slightly in return and following you into the kitchen. You mix the batter and fry the pancakes and try not to think about the fact that he’s leaving today. You busy yourself with idle chit chat and turning him down when he asks you to put blueberries in his pancakes. He pouts jokingly and gives you what has to be the saddest, and only, attempt at pleading eyes that you’ve ever seen. You resolve to make a quick syrup out of the blueberries. It is his last day, after all. You don’t have to look to see the way he smiles when you make the syrup, stirring the blueberries in the sugar until it makes a nice liquid, sweet and bitter at the same time. 

The spoon you’re stirring with hits the saucepan with a clang, and he notices. You don’t meet his gaze as he rushes over to you. Gods, this isn’t the first time you’ve been left. You should be used to it by now. But you’re not, and it hurts. Gods, it hurts so badly. You think you feel his arms pull you into a hug, but you can’t be too sure. You can’t be too sure of anything right now. You feel like you’re floating. Not quite real. You smell the almost burnt blueberry syrup and can feel his embrace, but you can’t force words out of your throat. 

“Can I assume this is about me leaving, or would that be just another moment where my ego takes...oh what was the word you used?” he looks down at you. There isn’t much of a height difference, but he still needs to look down to meet your eyes. 

“Precedence. I think. I don’t remember. And. Yes. Yes it is.” You manage. His expression softens and he rests his head next to yours. And you just stand there for a moment. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be safe, you know. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been patched up, and now I’m what? Ten times stronger? I’ll be just fine. You don’t need to worry. I’ll come back. I just need to check in with my brother, and then I’ll come back and bring him along and you two can talk about plants or whatever it is that you find out you have in common. It’ll all be okay. I’ll be safe. It’ll all be alright.” His voice is quiet, soft and placating. You want to scream. You’ve heard this all before. You have told yourself this over and over and over again. Just a trip into the nearby town. Nothing big. They’ll be back soon. It’ll be okay. They won’t forget you. You say these things to yourself, hoping and wishing that once, just once they become true. Just once, someone will come back. Just once, they won't forget you. But they always do. The cycle always repeats. You're born and you die in someone's mind over and over and over again. But you don't forget. No, you never forget. You grow tired and weary. Each time you live takes its toll on you. Each time someone forgets, each time you have to re-introduce yourself, it just gets worse. There's no escaping it for you, no matter how hard you try.

See, the thing about curses is that they don’t care. They don’t care who you meet. They don’t care about your parents or your friendships or anyone in your life. They are formed out of spite and filled with it.

You cry in his arms and listen to him whisper platitudes that you know are false. The cycle continues. In his mind, you exist. In his mind, you will soon die. He will forget you the moment he is out the door. You know this.

You want to scream. You want to grab him by the arms and scream for all the world to hear. You want to look im in the eyes and say "don't you dare leave me, you son of a bitch. Im not losing you too. Not now. Not yet." You want to hug him once more, tears in your eyes as you sob and explain every horrible thing that has happened to you. You want to tell him about the curse. You want to tell him about everyone you've lost. You want to tell him about everything from the way you love the sun on your face to the day your parents forgot you.

But you don't. 

...Why don't you? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO CHAPTERS?? IN ONE DAY?? Yes!!! Youre correct!!! I'm having so much fun writing this lmao. 
> 
> Anyways! Hope you enjoyed! Stay safe and stay hydrated and have a wonderful day!!! <3


	7. That Day That I Lost You (Its Clear As The Day We Met)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You dry your eyes and resolve to finish your chores before nightfall, the cat darting around your path as you think about just how much you’re going to miss your first visitor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINISHING OFF THE HURT (for now)

You want to tell him all of this. Tell him about the curse. How you came to have the wretched thing. Perhaps you will. For now, you just want to stay here. You want to be held a little while longer, and you so desperately want to believe what he says. Maybe for a brief moment, you can pretend that you do. So you stay quiet, and you hold him as tightly as you can, and you try not to think about curses or false platitudes or all the promises that have been made to you and then subsequently broken. You try to forget the flowers you keep braided so lovingly in your hair and what they mean. 

But all good things must come to an end. He pulls back and smiles that stupid grin of his and tells you that it’ll be okay once more. You can’t help the smile that appears on your face as well. You both sit and eat your pancakes. Luckily he turned off the stove, so the syrup didn’t burn. Afterwards, you sit in the front room for a bit, your head on his shoulder, your cat spread across your laps, and a sorrow set so deep in your bones that it almost hurts. At noon exactly, he stands. 

“I’m so sorry I have to leave. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I won’t forget, I promise.” You smile tearily and pull him into another embrace, holding him as tight as you possibly can. Miraculously, you convince yourself to let go at some point. He gives your hand a squeeze before heading out the door, leaving you standing in the doorway with sorrow in your bones and a feeling like the one you get when a storm is coming. He was a good friend. One of your best friends. You’re going to miss him dearly. You almost thank the curse. This way, he won’t have to remember you and the pain of leaving  you behind. You dry your eyes and resolve to finish your chores before nightfall, the cat darting around your path as you think about just how much you’re going to miss your first visitor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAYYYYYYY THREE CHAPTERS IN ONE NIGHT (even though this one is just three paragraphs fjsjfosnfosn) LETS GOOOOOOO
> 
> Very proud of myself :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!! Please leave a kudos, and maybe a comment (even a keysmash makes my day!!!) Have a great rest of your day, and remember to stay hydrated!! <3


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